


Just a Short Hop Home

by pantswarrior



Category: Dragonlance - Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman
Genre: Cosplay, Family, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Photography
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-08-30 22:15:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8551228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pantswarrior/pseuds/pantswarrior
Summary: In the days following the War of the Lance, Raistlin received not only a letter from Caramon, but an unexpected package - and unlike the letter, he couldn't bring himself to send it back.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I recently decided to make a long-time dream cosplay of mine - Raistlin Majere, one of my favorite characters ever - and had a "silly idea" for a picture occur to me. Except then I thought about how and why such a scene might have occurred, and it became a lot less silly and a lot more warm and fuzzy... as if it wasn't already pretty warm and fuzzy. Photo is included at the end. =)

"Shalafi."

Raistlin looked up from the spellbook as his apprentice paused at the arched doorway to his study. "Yes?" he inquired, though the reason for Dalamar's approach at this late hour was already quite visible.

"A package has been delivered," Dalamar replied, indicating the small parcel cradled in his left arm. "Unannounced."

Raistlin returned to his examination of the runes on the page before him. "Have it returned to the sender."

"My apologies," said Dalamar, causing Raistlin to look up again with mild surprise; Dalamar seldom refused even the simplest instructions. "The package is unmarked, but for your name. The sender did not identify themselves."

The origin of the package was obvious to Raistlin, simply from the clumsy nature of the wrapping. He had seen plenty such packages throughout his lifetime, after all. Yet to have Dalamar handle its return... His eyes went to Dalamar's for a moment. Had Dalamar inspected the contents before bringing it to his study? No... Raistlin would have known if he had. Further, Dalamar surely knew that Raistlin would have known. Par-Salian's little spy might have been entirely transparent, but he was no fool.

And Raistlin had no desire to discuss the package's sender with him, or anyone else. "Leave it on the desk," he told Dalamar. "I will see to it myself."

"Very well." Dalamar placed the lopsided, lumpy parcel in a corner unoccupied by his master's books and notes, and then departed, saying nothing further despite the curiosity Raistlin could sense in the subtle glance, the slight hesitation in turning away.

To be honest, Dalamar wasn't alone in his curiosity. Raistlin had expected the letter - he knew what they would be saying about him in the world outside his tower, and he knew what his brother would have to say about that. Caramon was unfailingly predictable.

Yet Raistlin had not expected Caramon to try something so preposterous as sending him a present, after so cold a rebuff to his previous attempt. His study already interrupted, Raistlin let his eyes go to the package in the corner of his desk. What sort of gift did Caramon think would change his mind...? Something absurd, no doubt.

Then there was the question, too, of whether or not Raistlin should go to the bother of arranging its return, when Caramon had made it more difficult than it needed to be by not identifying himself as the sender. Perhaps it would be best to simply discard it, rather than acknowledge that he had made an effort to return it. Caramon may have been an oaf, but his motives - foolish as they were - were not harmful, and Raistlin had no particular desire to hurt his brother's feelings any more than was necessary.

And if he was going to merely discard whatever ridiculous item Caramon had sent him, then there was no reason why he shouldn't open the package and find out what it was first, was there?

A derisive smirk spread across his lips, aimed at the self-serving logic of the arguments his mind had provided, but he had been considering stopping for the night anyhow. He reached for the package, and began to untie the awkwardly knotted string.

What he found within caused him to stop and stare; he could almost imagine that it was staring back. His surprise was such that at first, he didn't see the note that was also enclosed.

If you won't come home to your family...

Raistlin's eyes narrowed as he read the brief explanation, and his fingers clenched on the paper, crumpling it slightly before a word of command consumed it with a brief flare of magical fire. Such ridiculous things were to be expected from his idiot brother.

His eyes then turned back to the primary contents of the package... but for some strange reason, he hesitated rather than setting it aflame as well. It was every bit as absurd as he'd thought it would be, childish and stupid and sentimental, and there were many eyes in the tower, living and otherwise, to see such a thing. To laugh silently at his possession of something so silly. It was almost as if Caramon were trying to make a mockery of him.

Yet something gave him pause.

It would be as childish, he told himself, to destroy it in a fit of temper as it would have been to keep it. And as the tower's master, as a magus more powerful than nearly all who had ever lived, he could certainly conceal a mundane object from all of those watchful eyes who roamed the tower.

...Tomorrow, he decided, muffling a cough with his hand. He would decide what to do about it tomorrow. It was late, and he was fatigued - exacerbated by the unexpected gift and its accompanying missive leaving him slightly unsettled - and he needed to rest.

In the meantime, he tucked Caramon's gift within the folds of his robes; it would accompany him to his quarters. Far fewer eyes would venture there to see, whereas any number of beings might have reason to pass by his study and investigate an unfamiliar item. Perhaps it would be assumed to be some sort of magical artifact, Raistlin thought to himself with another slight smirk. But no - there was no magic involved. It was powerless, pointless, quite utterly useless, despite Caramon's apparent faith in it. Caramon had misplaced faith in any number of things.

Including him, Raistlin supposed, as he closed it in a warded chest and settled himself into bed for the night. They had that in common.

\---

Come home... Come home...!

Of course the dreams came, waking him with a jolt that caused his weak heart to stutter - a welcome exchange for the relief of waking. Even so, her voice and her eyes haunted him still, and the dry throat and panting breaths did not even allow him the luxury of a quiet scoff at his own weakness. All his power and knowledge, Raistlin thought, disgust trying in vain to ward off the despair, and he was reduced to little more than a squalling babe at the memories. Of course his twin could not have known what his words brought to mind; he had not been there, holding her hand. He had never understood or accepted their mother or her abilities.

Instinct allowed the word of command to come easily enough despite his trembling lips, and the nearby staff illuminated his surroundings with a faint rim of pale light. It was the first space he had ever occupied that was truly his own, neither granted by an instructor, rented for the duration of a campaign, or shared with Caramon. Raistlin's room at the tower was filled entirely with his own acquisitions, furnished to his own tastes, arranged for his own use...

And in that moment, it still seemed alien and unfamiliar to him.

Come home...!

For the moment, Raistlin wished he could. Home was a place, was it not, where comfort could be found? Where he felt safe and protected. In spite of all the wards and spells set upon the tower, the haunted grove that surrounded it, some vulnerabilities remained - because he had brought them in himself, and there was no one and nothing that could protect him from that which seethed within his own mind.

...Almost nothing.

"I just thought, you know... since I can't go with you..."

Raistlin had stared down at the ridiculous thing in disbelief. "...You idiot - they would taunt me all the more at the sight of this."

"So hide it from them." Caramon had shrugged. "I know you can do that. Even without your magics. You've always been good at keeping things secret. And, uh, not so good at, well, sleeping..."

After a long moment of indecision, Raistlin pushed back the blankets, rising from his bed and going to the warded chest in the corner, deftly disabling the magical locks binding it, so he could remove the item within. Small and well-worn, it had been with him since the day of his first extended trip away from Solace, an expedition with his fellow apprentices early in his magical education.

"And this would help?"

Again, Caramon had shrugged. "I dunno, maybe I really am an idiot like you always say. But I thought, we've never been apart this long before. And if the dreams come back, and I'm not there to make shadows on the wall for you and hold your hand until you fall asleep again, you can at least look at this and hold it and remember that I **would** if I could."

Raistlin stared down at the dark glass eyes, the stitched smile, the jaunty angle of the ears. What a ridiculous idea. As if most of his twin's ideas weren't.

And yet, he remembered as he lifted the small stuffed rabbit from its hiding place, the dreams _had_ come. That very night, the visions had woken him, forcing him to stifle his cries to avoid waking the other apprentices in the camp with him. And after some time trying to keep them contained, he had given in and pulled the rabbit from the bag where he kept his spellbooks.

Even without his cursed vision, causing everything to age before his eyes, the creature had seen better days. The glass eyes were duller, the ears flopped more than they should, the fur - which felt nothing at all like the fur of a real rabbit - was matted from years of midnight hugs and tears. All the times he'd been apart from Caramon during his apprenticeships, it had traveled with him, a constant companion to lessen the uneasiness of being without his brother. Never had another living soul been permitted to know of it; as Caramon had said, he was excellent at keeping secrets even before he'd learned enough about the magic to have acquired more options.

And certainly here, within the walls of the tower where his command was law, no one would ever find out. The words of the letter he'd burned remained with him, returning as he resettled himself in his bed.

There's a room here for you in our new house, in case you didn't read the other letters. Tika made me sort through the things you left behind, and I put most of them in your room so it would be ready any time you wanted to come back to Solace. But I found this, and I thought maybe you'd like to have it with you now. If you won't come home to your family yet, at least a little piece of your family can go with you, just like it used to on all your journeys.

Lying back upon his pillows, Raistlin tugged the blankets up around himself, and around the small stuffed rabbit in his arms. Another word of command, from lips already more relaxed and nimble, and the light from his staff was extinguished, leaving him alone in the darkness - yet not truly alone.

No matter what they say about you or what you're doing up there in that tower, you're still my brother, and I'm still your brother. Two halves of one whole body. I'll always be with you, no matter what.

Under the cover of darkness and solitude, Raistlin allowed himself to sigh in contentment, smiling slightly as he snuggled the rabbit closer.


End file.
